


To Adorn You In My Finest (Friend is a Four Letter Word Mix)

by Woldy



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character of Color, F/F, First Kiss, Flirting, Friendship, POV Female Character, Relationship(s), Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-29
Updated: 2011-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woldy/pseuds/Woldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with dating girls, in Gwen's experience, is the difficulty in knowing whether or not you <i>are</i> dating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Adorn You In My Finest (Friend is a Four Letter Word Mix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sour_Idealist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Idealist/gifts).
  * Inspired by [To Adorn You In My Finest](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/3128) by sour-idealist. 



The problem with dating girls, in Gwen's experience, is the difficulty in knowing whether or not you _are_ dating.

She's been through this before: with Sophia, who flirted outrageously for months but recoiled when Gwen kissed her; and with Forridel, who Gwen considered her girlfriend right up until the point she walked in on Forridel fucking someone else. That's not a good way to find out that you've been dumped -- not that Forridel admitted there was dumping involved, because she denied they'd been dating -- and Gwen is determined not to repeat it.

The most important lesson of her university education thusfar isn't about rhyming couplets, or postmodernism, or anything else on a syllabus -- it's that nothing about relationships can be taken for granted.

So every time Morgana issues an invitation, Gwen tries not to get her hopes up.

Today, Gwen's struggling to pay attention in their Byron class when Morgana ducks her head and murmurs, "My father’s throwing a dreadfully dull party for Christmas. Would you like to come?"

A hundred replies leap to mind, encompassing everything from "Eeeee!" to "Yes! OMG yes!" to "You want me to meet your father?" and Gwen hides her face in her textbook while she composes her thoughts.

In the three months she's known Morgana they have shared four lunches, a dinner, a dozen study dates, and watched innumerable episodes of bad TV on Morgana's couch. It _feels_ like dating, but Gwen has learned the hard way that just because you're both gay and spend all your time together doesn't mean you're dating. Not even if you buy each other dinner, and exchange Christmas presents. Not even if you also have sex.

"You make it sound so much fun," Gwen says dryly, after a moment, because humour is the best defense she knows against heartbreak.

"Please?" Morgana says, leaning closer, and Gwen gets a tantalizing glimpse down the front of Morgana's shirt -- creamy breasts and black lace -- before dragging her eyes away. "It’ll be so much better with somebody interesting to talk to. And perhaps you can stop me from getting into another fight with Arthur Pendragon."

"Does that happen often?" asks Gwen absentmindedly, trying _not_ to imagine what Morgana looks like in just her underwear.

"Last year I almost broke a bottle of champagne over his head."

Gwen laughs before remembering that she's in a lecture, and doesn't stifle it quickly enough to prevent the instructor from glaring at her. So much for her hopes of an A in this course. She composes her face into a suitably attentive expression, fixes her eyes on the whiteboard until the instructor looks away, and then turns back to Morgana.

"Well, I might have to come, then," Gwen says, keeping her tone light. After all, this is just two friends going to a party together, isn't it? "I don’t have a dress, though."

"I can buy you one," Morgana says instantly.

"Oh, you don’t have to do that! Maybe I could...borrow one, or something?"

"No," Morgana says firmly, in a tone that doesn't brook any disagreement. She sounds like a Medieval queen commanding her subjects, and for a moment Gwen imagines herself as a servant in Morgana's court. There would be worse ways to live, she decides.

"It's no trouble, really," Morgana insists, with a look in her eye that suggests she's already planning Gwen's outfit.

Gwen takes a deep breath, trying to settle the butterflies in her stomach, and nods her assent.

* * * * * * * * 

The dress is, of course, beautiful -- Morgana only seems to buy clothes with luxurious fabrics and an elegant silhouette -- and the party isn't nearly as bad as Morgana made it sound. It's the kind of party Gwen's only seen on television: waiters circulating with trays of champagne, glittering chandeliers overhead, guests in evening dress and ball gowns, and a string quartet playing in the corner. Gwen feels a bit like Cinderella, and she tries to memorize all the details so that one day she can tell her grandchildren about it.

What still hasn't become clear, despite meeting several members of Morgana's close family, is the status of their relationship -- or lack thereof.

At the beginning of the evening, Morgana had introduced Gwen to her father as, "My _dear_ friend, Gwen," and Gwen has been examining the phrase ever since.    
Did the emphasis on _dear_ negate the word _friend_? Was the careful wording aimed at a homophobic parent, or did Morgana not want to presume anything about their relationship without asking Gwen first, or was it Morgana's way of communicating that she only liked Gwen _as a friend_? Was it obsessing about things like this that caused literary heroines to run mad?

"How's the party?" asks Morgana from behind her, and Gwen feels the warm press of Morgana's hand on her arm. It's all she can do not to lean into the touch.

"The party?" she says blankly, because the feel of Morgana's hand on her bare skin seems to have turned her brain to cotton-wool. "Uhm. Very nice. Thank you so much for inviting me."

"Not at all!" Morgana replies, with a tinkly laugh that sounds nothing like the way Morgana laughs when they're alone, and Gwen is instantly reminded that Morgana's father is probably watching. "Thank you for rescuing me from a night of boredom."

"My pleasure," Gwen says, with a smile that doesn't feel any more genuine than Morgana's laugh. _God, are they going to make excruciatingly awkward small talk for the rest of the night?_

Morgana seems to share her thoughts, because she says, "Slip out with me for a few moments? If you don’t mind. It’s just so warm in here."

Gwen nods gratefully and follows Morgana towards balcony, pausing for Morgana to pick up two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. Morgana hands Gwen a champagne flute, tugs open the door, and Gwen feels the shock of cold air on her skin as they step outside. The music and murmur of voices fade as Morgana shuts the door behind them.

"I should probably be enjoying this more," says Morgana, looking out over the snowy garden. “Most people would kill to go to a party like this one.”

 _You aren't most people_ Gwen thinks, trying not to stare at the way Morgana's silk dress catches the light, emphasizing every curve of her body.

"What don’t you like about it?" she asks, because burying sexual tension beneath blandly polite conversation seems to be the theme of the evening.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Morgana replies, taking a sip of the champagne. “It’s just there are so many places I’d rather be.”

"Like?"

"Somewhere with you, I suppose," says Morgana, and Gwen's stomach turns over slowly. "Alone."

 _She wants me!_ says the optimistic part of Gwen, and then her internal pessimist leaps into action with _Don't jump to conclusions! It could all be a big misunderstanding._

"Morgana..." Gwen says, and hears the longing plain in her voice.

Morgana seems to have heard it too, because puts down her champagne flute, steps forward and cups Gwen's face in her hands.

For a moment Morgana just looks into Gwen's eyes, her gaze soft and intent, and then she kisses her. It's clumsy at first, and Gwen slops champagne onto the floor before stopping to put the glass down, but then they're kissing again, her back is pressed against the railing, her hands are tangled in Morgana's hair, and it's _fantastic_.

When Morgana finally pulls back, her hair is tousled and her lipstick is a smudged mess.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Morgana asks, and Gwen is so distracted by the sight of Morgana looking deshabille and utterly fuckable that it takes her a moment to absorb the meaning.

"Of course!" she says, just as Morgana's nervous smile is threatening to crack, and kisses her to drive the point home.

Morgana's mouth opens beneath hers, warm and soft, and the slide of her tongue against Gwen's own sends shivers of pleasure down Gwen's spine. Without making any conscious decision about it, Gwen finds her hand sliding over Morgana's hip, tracing the jut of her hipbone beneath the silk of her dress.

"Perhaps it's time to leave," murmurs Morgana, pulling back from the kiss and taking a step towards the door.

"Are you asking..." Gwen says, just to check, because you really can't assume _anything_ , and even if she and Morgana are going out it doesn't necessarily mean they're going to have sex tonight.

"I'm asking you to come home with me," Morgana confirms. "I'll understand if you don't want to--"

"I want to," Gwen says, so fast that she almost stumbles over the words, and Morgana smiles brighter than all the crystal chandeliers.

Gwen's pretty sure that politeness requires them to say goodbye to Morgana's family, but Morgana doesn't seem to care about that. Her grip around Gwen's wrist is warm and firm, and Gwen barely has time to take in Arthur's raised eyebrows before Morgana tugs her to the exit, where footmen hold out their coats and throw open the door of a car.

Perhaps it's the effect of the champagne, or perhaps it's just the thrill of kissing Morgana, but the car ride is an almost dizzying flood of sensations: the moving shadows cast over Morgana's skin by the streetlights, the taste of lipstick and champagne on Morgana's mouth, and the feel of Morgana arching against her. A tiny part of Gwen's brain protests that one shouldn't have sex on a first date, but she ignores it -- this is hardly a first date, and after fantasizing about Morgana for three months she has absolutely no intention of stopping.

When the car comes to a stop Morgana presses a handful of notes into the driver's hand, and steers Gwen up the stairs to her flat. The moment the door is shut behind them, Morgana is kissing her again, lips pressed to Gwen's neck and her hand sliding possessively down Gwen's back.

"You look amazing in this dress," Morgana breathes, between kisses, "but I know you'll look even better without it."

"Did you buy it just so you could undress me?" Gwen asks breathlessly, tipping her head back as Morgana's lips close around her earlobe.

"Is that a problem?" says Morgana, lifting her head to meet Gwen's eyes.

"Not at all," Gwen tells her, smiling, and the next moment Morgana's hands are unfastening the zip of her dress.

Either Morgana chose this dress for the easy access, or it's a lucky coincidence, because all it takes is for Morgana to slide the straps over Gwen's shoulders and the dress slithers to the floor. Before Gwen can pick it up, Morgana kicks it aside and falls to her knees in front of Gwen.

"Oh!" Gwen gasps, and then, "God, Morgana!"

Neither of them say anything for a while after that, because Morgana's mouth is otherwise occupied and Gwen has completely lost the capacity to form words.

Later, when Morgana is stretched out naked beside her and both their dresses lie crumpled on the floor, Gwen stretches lazily and asks, "Was this what you planned when you invited me?"

"Not exactly _planned_ ," Morgana says, propping herself up on her elbow. "But I hoped. I didn't want to assume you were interested, and whenever I asked you out it always seemed...well, so platonic."

"I'm terrible at dating," Gwen confesses. "I can never tell if we're going out, or just friends, and--"

She's interrupted by Morgana kissing her.

"We're here," says Morgana firmly, her hand snaking around Gwen's waist to pull her closer, "and you agreed to be my girlfriend, _and_ you survived an evening with my family. That counts as a success."

 _Girlfriend_ , Gwen thinks, letting her mind wrap around the word, _I have a girlfriend_. Having this much certainty about her relationship status is new, but as she snuggles into Morgana's side Gwen is sure she'll get used to it.


End file.
